


Pop’s the Question

by gardnerhill



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Typical Night Vale Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not a matter of how - a matter of which.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pop’s the Question

I should have anticipated this. The fact that I am more fascinated than apprehensive speaks of my acclimatization to this town. 

Mutual attraction had joined the pair of us in the first place – and my unexpected reprieve from death focused my mind wonderfully. I finally understood that Cecil, for all his words and his adulation, would wait till an apocalypse or three to make the first move. He is a man of words; I am a man of action, and I finally proved it. As Cecil had wooed me over that year with words, I now wooed him with actions – the first acknowledgement, the first touch, the first date, the first kiss, the first shared bed, the first shared home. 

The first discussion of the possibility of our having and raising children. 

Parenting had been on my mind for some years now – a vague, wistful thought in between experiments. Now other thoughts twine with the usual longing – musings on DNA, nature vs. nurture, how well an outsider could raise a Night Vale child, the change in both our lives that this would mean. Would I be able to let a daughter or son of mine enter the library for a local rite of passage without going mad with dread at what could happen? Would fear replace my fascination with every threatening, ominous thing in this place, seeing it only as a threat to my child? 

The main difficulty I saw before us was the procurement side of the situation. I had never seen anything like a foster home or adoption agency in this town. From where would we find our own new family member – from the ranks of hollow-eyed messengers, the survivors of static cloud attacks, the lowest-ranked child on Flora Sandero’s tote board, the abandoned children occasionally parachuted from SSP copters into the sand wastes? 

But when I mentioned my concern to Cecil, he smiled, and took me into the men’s room at the NVCR station where a small cluster of gray tabby cats hovered and floated like astronauts in a space station. “Khoshekh,” he said to the large tom near the sink, “show Carlos your babies.” And Cecil smiled at me, waiting for my brain to make the connection between the data and the theory this would prove. 

As I am a scientist, I did not disappoint either of us. Again, fascination rather than apprehension or fear took over. That it is eagerness to learn more, and not terror, suggests in itself that I am ready for this. I will talk to Cecil tonight after the show, to confirm that we are both of like mind on the subject. 

Now we only have to decide which of us will carry the pregnancy.


End file.
